Suit and Tie
by NobleCaliber
Summary: Well, I'd like to think I'm the mess you'd wear with pride, like some empty dress on the bed you've laid out for tonight. But she's calling it *the* dress, now isn't she? Warning: May cause cavities.


I have a minor obsession with the song that plays at the end of Mr. Yang presents. And now it's been turned into a Shules fic. So.

Big thanks to the one and only real Jules (TheRealJules if you're on PsychFic and keepingsecrets-sayingsleepless on Tumblr) for a) being my beta and b) forcing me to take the first step to overcoming my extreme phobia of sharing my writing non-anonymously because she's just that awesome.

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_(Well, I'd like to think I'm the mess you'd wear with pride.)_

_(Like some empty dress on the bed you've laid out for tonight.)_

Well, she's calling it _the_ dress. White- shiny white- in folds that sweep left and then right and then down, with two beaded sections and- oh.

This is _the_ dress.

She turns down into the isle, Carlton looking sharp on her arm, and everyone's eyes are just glued to her. Agonizingly slow, and with easy steps, her partner keeps the pace. She's smiling so big, not really biting her lip, just holding onto the seam between the inside of her mouth and lip between her teeth.

Another step, and a few more rose petals hit the floor. The whole wedding party makes their way steadily toward him, crashing in with a weight that makes him feel alive and oddly free. Another petal, and he forces the used air out of his lungs.

"Breathe, Shawn. You are _not_ leaving here in an ambulance." Gus elbows him in the side, which does nothing for his inhalation.

"I'm breathing, Gus." he insists, making sure to take a breath with every step she takes towards him.

She stops just a step before the short set of stairs. Carlton whispers something in her ear, everything else bursting with stark silence. He kisses her temple and steps aside, looking slightly resigned, and Juliet climbs the stairs. Shawn winks over her shoulder at Lassiter, who rolls his eyes as he sits heavily in his chair with something that looks a lot like hopelessness. Juliet's happiness may mean the world to him, but he's still a little resentful of Shawn.

She takes a handful of the dress in one hand and reaches out to him with the other. Without thinking, reflexively, he takes her hand and pulls her up beside him. For a long moment, they stand and stare at each other, and they're both about to pinch themselves because_ is this really happening?_

"We are gathered here today-"

Maybe it's not real. He knows he's had this dream ten thousand times, and then some with kids and grandkids and creaky old porch swings. But she's been reassuring him, reminding him for a while now that this is real and that it's going to be real and-

Gus clears his throat and elbows him. "Shawn." Shawn's smile is unwavering. "_Shawn_."

Oh, right. "I-I never thought I'd be standing here, with you of all people, but now all the time I spent thinking that… it's just wasted. We _wasted_ a lot of time, and I can easily pinpoint a thousand places and cases where we should have stopped, but we didn't, and- what I'm trying to say is, however long it took, for all the times we got it wrong, this time is right and I _love you_. So I, Shawn Spencer, take you, Juliet O'Hara, to be my lawfully wedded wife, in sickness and in health, in wealth and poverty, and then in right-side-up and in upside-down cereal boxes, in cars and on motorcycles, and in both very close and not all that close talking." With a sharp inhalation, he slides the ring on her finger.

Everything spirals away as she just positively beams up at him, and it's only when his lungs burn again that he realizes that damn, he has got to breathe. She squeezes his hands in hers and exhales, partly for her own nerves and partly to remind him that he has lungs for a reason and she'd be displeased if she had to be pronounced his wife in the ER.

"I don't care what they say, my one true love was wearing sneakers and an Apple Jacks tee shirt. And he's a fool and the last person on Earth I ever imagined myself with. But none of that matters, because we're gonna live and love, fight a little, and love some more. And people are going to look at us and say _damn, I want something like that. _So I, Juliet O'Hara, take you, Shawn Spencer, to be my lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health, in wealth and in poverty. When you deserve more than popcorn and when you don't deserve any at all, when you're in doghouse and when you're in the pound, and for the things that come easy and the things that just _don't." _Then she slides the cool metal band over his finger and he could faint (almost does).

They're staring so intently at each other at that moment that eventually the priest clears his throat harshly, and their eyes snap to him. "By the power vested in me-"

Shawn can't wait any longer, doesn't. It was all he could do to wait this long, really. He jerks her to him by her hands, no time for her to resist. Once she's stumbled and fallen against his chest, he grabs her waist and pulls her closer still, _finally_ kisses her.

Kisses her as her husband.

When he pulls back, the world resumes from its shocked silence and the man beside them says, "I pronounce you husband and wife, you may kiss the bride," and there's a little attitude in it because really, he was supposed to wait for that cue. (It doesn't matter. He kisses her again.)

And then she's staring up at him again, with those beautiful blue eyes that do wonders for his soul, but aren't healthy for his heart rate. With the seam of her lip caught between her teeth again, she smiles as if the trapped flesh is the only thing keeping her from just exploding with joy and the glint and glimmer in her eye certainly confirm.

_(Maybe I'll tell you sometime)_

_(Time)_

_(Sometime)_

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You know the dealio.


End file.
